Marking Territory
by DianeB
Summary: Adding depth to the first scene of the S4 episode, "Driving Mr. McLynn," in which we see Martin rushing to Louisa after receiving an emergency call from Joan.  What was going on in Louisa's head during her less-than-pleasant conversation with Martin?


Title: Marking Territory  
Author: DianeB  
Rating: PG-13 (K+)  
Pairing: Martin/Louisa

Summary: Just adding narrative to the first scene in the S4 episode, "Driving Mr. McLynn," in which we see Martin rushing to Louisa after receiving an emergency call from Joan. Louisa's point of view (mostly).

Author's Note: Thanks to **Littleguinea** from fanficdotnet for her fair eye to editing and to checking the "Americanisms." Written February, 2011, soon after this episode aired in the United States.

By the way, this is the episode where Doctor Edith Montgomery gives Martin a bag of outdated blood, telling him to give it a squeeze as "reassurance" he can "cope" with his hemophobia. I about wet my pants laughing when Martin dropped like a stone after one look at that bag! (No reason to include that here except it was so darned funny I just had to make note somewhere.) Did I mention I just _love_ this show?

Disclaimer: This story is for entertainment purposes only. I claim no right to anything affiliated with _Doc Martin_. This is my first attempt at _Doc Martin_ fanfic. Please be kind.

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They had just brought in the sofa and Louisa was going back for a chair when her world went sideways. She must've staggered, though she didn't recall that, because Joan was at her side in an instant.

"Louisa! Here now! Down, sit down!"

As the feeling was already passing, Louisa waved her away, still intent on bringing in the chair. "No, no, I'm fine. A bit dizzy there for a second, but I'm fine now."

Clearly, Joan was having none of it. She gently but firmly guided Louisa to the sofa and pushed her down onto it. "I'm calling Martin." In a blur of motion, she had her phone in her hand and was pressing numbers.

"No, Joan, please," Louisa protested. "Don't bother him." Panic seized her. The absolute _last_ person she wanted to see was Martin Ellingham. It mattered not that she was seven months pregnant by him, or that she had clearly overdone it today – there was _no way_ she wanted Martin informed. She came back to the moment in time to hear Joan abruptly finish her phone call.

"…_now_, Martin. Goodbye!" Without bothering to even _look_ at Louisa, Joan went into the kitchen, wiped off a glass, and braved the foul interior of Mr. Routledge's refrigerator, clearly intent on getting Louisa some newly-purchased juice.

Cradling her belly, Louisa sighed and let her head fall back against the pillow, wondering for a fleeting second how her life could've spiraled so far out of control in such a short period of time.

**oOo oOo oOo**

Louisa heard Joan and Martin at the door sniping at each other, but they were too far away for her to hear the actual words, thank God. It was bad enough to see the look on Martin's face as he came to her side and began poking at her, but became infinitely worse when he opened his mouth in response to Joan's question about whether or not Louisa looked pale.

"No, she just seems very stupid."

Joan had the good grace to interrupt with an outraged, "Oh, Martin!" but by this time Martin was on his usual roll, and Louisa knew she was about to get it both barrels.

Handing Joan a box to clear a place on a low table so he could sit beside Louisa, he growled, "What did you think you were doing?"

Louisa was, of course, working up a pretty good head of steam herself, but now that he was here, she could not honestly say she was upset by his concern, brusque as it was. Still, she bit her tongue against the four hundred smart-arse things she could've said in answer to his obviously rhetorical question, choosing instead to ignore it entirely. "And good morning to you."

He continued as if she hadn't spoken, digging around in his bag for whatever he was after. "Shifting furniture!"

She opted for the truth, more or less. "We brought in the sofa. I went back for a chair, then I felt a little bit faint. That's all."

He exploded in medical rage, unwrapping the blood pressure cuff with unnecessary force. "Really? I wonder why? Could it be because you're _seven months pregnant_?" He applied the cuff to her arm and affixed the stethoscope's eartips to his ears. "Have you passed out before?"

"I didn't pass out." Which she hadn't. Not really. Not all the way out, anyway.

Martin continued the business of taking her blood pressure. "Were you breathless?"

She pretended not to know what he meant. "When?"

"Before you fainted."

This time her reaction was less play-acting. "I didn't faint!"

Joan piped up. "She needed to sit down. 'Bit dizzy,' she said."

With a huff, Martin addressed both she and Joan. "This is beginning to sound less and less like an emergency."

Louisa couldn't stop herself; the words were out before she allowed herself time to think how it sounded. "I did ask Joan not to bother you."

"It really is no bother," Joan said primly, as if she were the one who'd literally run top-speed from her surgery.

This time Martin exclaimed as if he couldn't believe what he'd just heard. Ripping the eartips from his ears, he shouted, "Actually, it's _extremely _inconvenient, especially," he threw the stethoscope and cuff into his bag where they landed with a disturbing rattle and began rummaging for something else, "since your blood pressure is normal…unlike your attitude about your pregnancy."

It took every bit of her self-control not to yell right back at him. "Sorry?"

"At some point," he started, pulling a fetal heart monitor from the bag, "you're going to have to accept the fact that you can't behave like a normal person. You're going to have a baby!"

When Martin got like this, it was impossible for her to resist matching his attitude word for word. "Oh, which makes me _ab_normal?"

"Yes." At this point, Buddy rose up and put his front paws on Martin's leg, as if wanting to get a better look at the verbally sparring humans. Martin's reaction was immediate and filled with disgust and cut off anything more he might've said about her _abnormality_. "Oh! Get, go on! Get away from me!" Buddy wisely trotted off, while Martin began running the monitor over Louisa's stomach. The muffled, rapid heartbeat it revealed was reassuring to her. His next question, after clearing his throat in palpable distaste, had nothing to do with the baby. "Is that smell coming from your dog?"

Joan, miffed, said from the back room, "No, it is not."

Louisa elaborated, while she watched in fascination as he continued to run the monitor over her belly. "Toilet's blocked, and there's something strange behind the fridge…and _in _the fridge."

"Right," he said, finishing up and tossing the monitor into his bag. "Well, if you want my advice, you should take this as a wake-up call."

She did not necessarily want his advice, at least not when it was delivered in that all-too-familiar tone. However, she was curious as to where he was going with it. "Oh-kaay, Martin."

"Your body is trying to tell you to lie down, rest, _stop_ working—"

"No," she said sharply, cutting him off. "I don't want to stop teaching."

Martin sighed in frustration and looked straight at her. "How many days a week are you working?"

A fair question. One she really didn't want to answer, already knowing what his response would be. "Five."

Barely a nanosecond passed. "Make it three."

Even though Louisa knew it was a lost cause, she raised her voice in self-defense. "I can't. I'm the acting head teacher. As a matter of fact," she said, knowing he didn't have this information yet, "I've just applied to be the _permanent_ head teacher."

If she had said she was building a new schoolhouse herself, brick by brick, he couldn't have been more surprised. "Are you every bit as mad as the last one?"

Their bickering was like a scripted routine, with the volume gradually getting louder and louder. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"As I keep saying, _Louisa_, you are about to have a baby!"

But she was way ahead of him on her response. "Yes, in the summer holidays, before the new term begins!"

Martin clearly wasn't buying into that, and, worse, began speaking to her as if she were twelve. "Yes, and you'll still have that baby right through to the end of the academic year! You will care for that child for the next eighteen years of your life – longer if it's handicapped! How on earth do you think you can cope with a full-time job _and_ be a full-time mother?"

Louisa was rendered mute for a moment, not having thought beyond the baby's actual birth. Of course he was right, if a bit old-fashioned, and she was amazed at the depth of his understanding – this man who claimed not to be good with children or to even _like_ them much. But she'd be damned if she'd give in, not after all this. "I'll get some help."

Martin brought himself to his full height and bellowed, "Not from me!"

Joan exclaimed, "Martin!"

"Well, I'm only repeating what she's made abundantly clear from the outset. She doesn't want me involved."

Louisa started talking before she thought about the words, because the words weren't true, they did not reflect how she really felt, but she just couldn't, just _wouldn't_, give him the satisfaction. "No, I don't. And I'm perfectly capable of doing what loads of other women do every day. I can work _and_ be a mum!" She finished with a spiteful "Ha, ha," raising her juice glass in mock salute.

Buddy chose this moment to pee on a pile of baskets on the floor under the kitchen table, which Martin noticed almost before the poor beast had lifted his leg. "Oh, look what your dog's doing! This place is a minefield of bacteria. Next thing you know, you'll be having a miscarriage."

Louisa was very glad Martin had not really been looking at her when he'd said this, because his words sliced through her like a knife and she was sure it showed on her face. She could not figure if he was worried or hopeful that she would miscarry before she'd have a chance to properly clean Mr. Routledge's filthy cottage. Either way made her nauseous, fearful, and oddly sad.

At that moment the baby kicked, stirred up no doubt by the tension in the room, and it was enough to remind Louisa that whatever Martin was or was not as a person, he _was_ the father of her child. Sooner or later, whether they liked it or not, they were going to have to face a few facts, not the least of which was that she loved him desperately – big ears, gruff exterior, and all.

Joan, on the other hand, had clearly had enough of her pompous, overbearing nephew. Pointing to the door, she yelled, "I think you better leave now, before you say something you'll really regr—go on, go on, just _go_, Martin!"

Buddy, on the other paw, decided he liked all these people, with their stimulating scents and the lovely sharp tone of words he couldn't quite understand. They summoned the wolf in him, made him feel protective, and they _definitely_ generated a need to mark his territory. Again.

End.


End file.
